


V-shaped collars

by saderaladon



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, I was all thumbs while I was writing this, M/M, Mentions of underage people having sex with each other, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22519561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saderaladon/pseuds/saderaladon
Summary: "Do you..." Ginger starts again. "Like, if you want to... Well, do something. Like... Choking. Then you. You could, you know."
Relationships: Ginger Fish/Tim Sköld
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	V-shaped collars

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooo... 
> 
> Should I even explain myself?
> 
> Anyway, here's this thing. It's set around that time the band was filming Putting holes in happiness. My spiritual brother and I have feelings about that video. Our feelings have not yet been expressed. This thing is like a follow-up to a thing that doesn't yet exist.  
> Yeah, it's tough.
> 
> There're mentions of two teenagers who're around fourteen fucking in this thing.
> 
> Neither this thing, nor any other thing belongs to me. I'm just awake at 6 a.m. when I should've been in bed at least four hours ago.
> 
> Enjoy. :)

Manson is to blame.

Manson and his sense of style and that fussy lady that was moving them around like blow-up dolls and saying too many words that sounded French.

"Hey, Tim, wait," Ginger shouts, semi-running after him.

Tim holds the door.

"Are you going out for a smoke?"

"Yeah," Tim nods. "Wanna join me?"

Ginger nods too, and they walk down the corridor and then outside, into the back alley, Tim leans on the wall and lights up both his and Ginger's cigarette.

Ginger shifts on his feet.

"I uh..." he starts, then clears his throat.

"Huh?"

"Do you... Do you like my neck?"

Manson is to blame. Manson and his sense of style and that fussy lady and that V-shaped collar.

"Uh," Tim says.

A fly can be expected to visit his gaping mouth at any second now.

"What?" Tim says.

Ginger shifts on his feet.

"You've been... staring. At my throat. Today."

He looks at Tim, and Tim feels that the fly's arrived and it's judgemental. Especially its eyes.

"Uh," he says. "I... Have I?"

"Uhum," the fly buzzes.

"Oh," Tim says. "Fuck."

He takes several deep drags, shifts on his feet, studies the ground.

"Well," he says. "Yeah. Yeah. I like your neck."

It's all Manson's fault. Manson's and that lady's and that collar's and that neck's Ginger kept arching while drumming.

It's not his fault. He sounds like he's apologizing anyway.

Just in case. He has to work with this guy.

"Ah," Ginger says. "So you were... I'm not... You were. Staring."

Damn.

"Yeah," Tim says. "Yeah, I was. You're right. Sorry?"

He offers Ginger his crooked smile.

Ginger smiles too, weakly.

They smoke silently for some seconds.

"Do you..." Ginger starts again. "Like, if you want to... Well, do something. Like... Choking. Then you. You could, you know."

Tim coughs.

"What?"

_WHAT._

Ginger looks at him, away, at him, away, and bites his lip.

"I... I mean, you said you liked that, so I thought..."

"What?"

_WHAT._

"Ah?"

"I said I liked choking?"

"Ah," Ginger breathes out. "Yeah."

Tim stares at him, blinking.

"I... When?"

"Oh. When we were shooting Personal Jesus. At the afterparty. At Jessica's house."

Tim frowns.

"Did I?" he asks.

Ginger nods.

They were shooting Personal Jesus three years ago.

And who the fuck is Jessica.

"Ah..." Tim says, dragging the vowel. "I'm... I probably was just joking."

Ginger frowns.

"So... You don't like choking?"

Jesus.

"I..." Tim says. "I'm not opposed to it. But. It's not like... a thing. If that's what you mean."

"Oh."

They don't smoke silently for some seconds.

They just stand there awkwardly for two millenia.

"Do you?" Tim asks, glancing at Ginger as if to check it is the guy he has to work with and not a bizarre duplicate he got replaced with.

"What?"

"Do you like choking?"

Small talk. Batshit insane edition.

"Uh... No, I just. I thought you did and then I thought we could do it, because you've been staring at my throat today, so I..."

Ginger cuts himself off. Tim's facial expression is to blame.

His eyes are narrowed to the point even the tiny, microscopic angels dancing on the tip of the needle wouldn't be able to get past his eyelids.

"What?"

Making sexual advances. Ginger insane edition.

"Aren't you..." Tim starts.

Aren't you the most agamic creature this world has ever seen.

"Aren't you straight?"

He has no idea.

Ginger could be procreating through gemmation, for all he knows.

"Ah," Ginger says. "I'm... No, I'm... Don't know, I..."

"You don't know?"

Tim doesn't know when he was born, sure, but he is definitely not fourteen.

Ginger shrugs.

"I just," he says. "I like you and you've been looking at my... My throat today. And I thought that maybe you'd want to---"

"You like me?"

Ginger stumbles in his speech.

"Uhm... Yeah."

"Since when?"

Ginger glances at him, away, at him and swallows hard and shrugs again.

"Don't know."

Tim snorts out a puff of air.

Ginger looks away and sighs.

"Look, I just... Sorry, I shouldn't have---"

"Nah," Tim interrupts him again, frowning a little. "Bullshit. I just. I am a bit... Confused. You fucking blush when Manson talks about blowjobs and now you are offering me to choke you?"

Ginger blushes.

"I... Yeah. If you... If you want to. But you... You don't like it, do you? Sorry."

Tim looks at him, and it is really hard not to chuckle.

"Hey," he says instead. "I'm not saying no."

"No?"

"No," Tim shakes his head. "I mean, yeah. Sure. I'll choke you."

Why not.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Provided you figure out your sexual orientation now and we fuck too. Because as I said, choking's not a thing."

Ginger stares at him, blinking, and then smiles.

"Okay."

Tim chuckles.

***

They were at her house, at her parents' house, in the attic, they had hand cream, she said it would be painful, that's what they say, Tim shrugged, said _okay, let's, let's do something else._

They were two aroused creatures, two young people, some might say they were too young, he was not yet fourteen, she was a bit older, but just a bit, it wasn't his first time, it was hers, and what they had in common was the place of birth, eye color and a propensity for sticking long, smooth things covered in hand cream in their assholes, and that time, that afternoon they kissed, he touched her boobs, she licked his cock, they put long, smooth things inside each other's assholes.

It was great, but awkward.

A bit awkward, but really, really great.

This time they are two idiots in their forties, it is a different country, a hotel room, Tim's hotel room, and they have lube - that might have something to do with it being Tim's hotel room - Tim said it's not a safe kind of sport, that's what it says here, showed the article, Ginger looked at him and blinked and bit his lips, said _so..._ with at least forty dots after it, and Tim shrugged.

It's their first time, it is awkward, but fuck it, they are doing it.

"So," Tim says.

They are also already naked, but not hard, maybe just a little, they kissed for fourteen seconds and Ginger looked at him and blinked and bit his lips, there was a pause, Tim touched him, not his throat and not his cock, touched something else, something like his elbows or his calves or his goddamn nostrils, touched him in the most agamic way, it was awkward.

"So like..." Tim says. "Who's getting fucked?"

Manson would have many things to say about this interlocution.

"Uh," Ginger has to say.

Tim lolls his head to the side and snorts out a puff of air.

"Have you even done that?"

"I..." Ginger says. "Uhm... I uh..."

Tim shakes his head.

"OKay, it's me," he says and grabs the lube.

"Hm," Tim says, blinks and bites his lips. "There you go."

This isn't unfamiliar to him.

He stretched himself, licked Ginger's cock, that got him hard, that got _him_ hard, the stretching too, Ginger was staring at him, at his mouth on his cock, at his hand disappearing behind his back, _I hope you have at least done this_ , Tim thought, lowering himself on Ginger's cock.

He rocks his hips a few times before he addresses Ginger.

Who is blushing.

"You good?" Tim asks.

"Uh... Yeah. Yeah."

"Okay," Tim nods and shifts on his cock a few more times. "Shall we?"

He puts his hand around Ginger's throat and squeezes, careful not to crush his windpipe, and starts moving.

It's awkward, it's probably the most awkward it has ever been, since that time they shoved god knows what that was long and smooth into their asses or just in general, it is really, seriously awkward, but it is great.

It is just awkward before it's great, like a distant memory of distant barely teenage children in the attic, and it is not a thing before Tim says _lick_ and Ginger starts licking at his fingers right away, but then it becomes a thing and very quickly.

Tim puts his hand around Ginger's throat and starts moving, taking in his cock, and Ginger looks up at him as if it is not quite happening, as if it's a blurry image in a camera obscura, as if it isn't real, and Tim squeezes harder.

A flash of something appears on Ginger's face.

Tim smiles and grinds down, squeezes harder.

"Tim," Ginger says. when Tim releases him, asks him _you okay?_

That's when it starts becoming great.

It isn't long till Ginger stares at him as if he's liked him since Tainted love at least, _at least_ , arches his neck, his smooth, warm shoulders under Tim's hands, Tim licks his neck, bites into it, leaves a bruise and Ginger moans, _Tim_ , he says.

"I'm gonna choke the shit out of you," Tim says and squeezes harder and says _lick_ when Ginger's mouth falls open and shoves his fingers in.

Ginger's hands fly up and land on Tim's body the very moment Tim's hand grips his neck.

They stay there, and Tim feels like a fucking Qing dynasty porcelain vase throughout the whole time.

Tim puts his hand around Ginger's throat and squeezes, hard and harder, and Ginger's hands fly up and feel like they might fly away at any moment while he holds Tim with them, like they can be blown away like autumn leaves, and Tim is moving, there is a long, smooth, warm cock inside his ass, and Ginger arches under him, jerks up his hips as if involuntarily, as if he's carrying a fucking Qing dynasty porcelain vase, as if he's about to trip over and then fall and break it, because it is a nasty sort of comedy and he's the butt of this cruel joke, Ginger chokes out his name and stares at him, not the way Tim's been staring at his throat, Tim has been staring at it, all blame on the V-shaped collar, and thinking _that's a nice throat_ and then again, _that is a nice fucking throat_ and then again, _goddamn it, that fucking throat_ , and Ginger's staring at his smiling face as if he's liked him since that time Tim had an awkward fuck with his adolescent female friend at her parents' house in the attic.

It is like that time Tim had an awkward fuck with his adolescent friend at her parents' house in the attic, what's different is that the attic's so distant now it feels more like a movie, like footage one might find on a forgotten, long abandoned, dusty camera, but back then things were raw, and now, now it's like a movie from the start, like an art film, it's only when Ginger starts saying Tim's name, breathless, that it becomes a thing of real life, it's not a weird conversation with an even weirder follow up, it's that flash that appears on Ginger's face, it might be fear, surprise, might be a request to slow down, an afterthought, another vague, perplexing sound that he wants to make, it is what makes not a thing into a thing for Tim.

Tim chokes the shit out of Ginger.

He's almost standing on his hand when Ginger comes, he's putting his whole weight into him, his other hand is in Ginger's mouth, his fingers, Ginger's sucking them, he's panting, sweaty, red, dishevelled, he comes in Tim's ass with a moan that Tim feels vibrating in his throat he's squeezing.

Them not using condoms might have something to do with it being Tim's room too.

His eyes look huge when he comes.

He's looking up at Tim.

Tim also doesn't close his when he beats off and when he comes, he stares at him, at his throat, the imprints of his fingers on it, at his wet, red, chapped lips, he stares into the camera obscura.

***

"So what?" Tim says in the morning.

They smoke in bed.

The imprints of his fingers are now purple on Ginger's throat.

"So what?" he says. "What else did you think I was into?"

____________________________________________________


End file.
